28 Perceptors
by Hellsfirescythe
Summary: Twenty eight different facets of Autobot Scientist Perceptor. Each chapter comes with own rating and warnings, reader be advised, there is slash in some.
1. On His Knees Perceptor

Title: Underfoot  
Author: Darkfireblade aka Hellsfirescythe  
For: 28 Perceptors "On His Knees"  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: PG  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor, Spike  
Summary: Stumbling around the Ark was always a cautious ordeal because of their human guests, but it just got more troublesome.  
Notes/Warnings: none really, um, some fluff?

* * *

"If your strength permits it, would you procure a laser-cutter for my uses?"

Spike tore his gaze away from the strange mechanism that was the shrink-o-matic (Perceptor's name for it was neither as easy to pronounce or remember) to locate the scientist's sought for tool. A few seconds of huffing, puffing, and strained muscles later, the laser-cutter was hefted against Perceptor's red feet with a loud clang.

A pleased beam rewarded Spike's actions and the Autobot scientist easily picked up the object that had taken Spike a considerable amount of effort. "Why thank you, Spike," said Perceptor as he returned to his tinkering. Spike collapsed onto the floor with a tired sigh and watched as sparks flew from whatever the red and blue mech was working on.

"I can't help but inquire why you choose to spend your day observing me in my lab, I thought you came for help on your schoolwork," asked Perceptor, his voice even more tinny than usual as it echoed through the heavy work mask that covered his face.

"Well, I did want some help," confessed Spike with a laugh. "But watching you Autobots fixing up all these cool gadgets is just fascinating. I mean, come on, you guys are light-years ahead of us an any sort of technology. I might as well try to learn something." That was part of the truth. What Spike didn't say was that any sort of homework explanation that Perceptor tried to come up with just ended with the scientist rambling and left Spike with a major brain overload.

Another shower of sparks escaped from the lab counter-top, landing with a hiss on the Ark floor and narrowly missing Spike by a couple meters.

"Yowch!"

At Spike's sudden exclamation, Perceptor immediately jerked around to check on his watcher. Spike scrambled away as large feet lumbered towards him. Seeing Spike so close to being crushed under him, Perceptor stumbled backwards towards the lab computer, hands flailing. A beam of light engulfed Spike's vision and everything went black.

He came to a few seconds later, flat on his back.

"Spike! Spike Witwicky! Where are you? Answer me!" cried Perceptor, his voice highly agitated. The sound of metal shuffling against metal strained Spike's ears.

Groggily, Spike pushed himself up to see Perceptor crouched on all fours. The scientist's optics level with the ground as he slowly crawled around.

Further away, the lab door opened, admitting a perplexed Wheeljack.

"I saw ya crawling around through the window and wondered what you were doing on your hands and knees. Lost something Perceptor?"

"Not something, Wheeljack. Someone."

"Someone?"

Perceptor pushed himself up onto his knees and let out a loud expellation of air through his filters. "Spike Witwicky had availed himself to my presence earlier today and had up to now, been assisting me in my labs. But due to some rather sudden and unfortunate circumstances..."

"What, Percepter?"

The scientist shook his head with a wry smile. "Wheeljack, I think I shrunk the human."

For the next hour or so, Spike watched incredulously as what had began as Wheeljack and Perceptor frantically crawling around in search of him grow into a small search party consisting of the aforementioned two mechs as well as Bumblebee, Jazz, Ironhide, and even Optimus Prime. Spike's attempts at catching their attention with his small yells had been unsuccessful; perhaps if he were closer...but if he tried to get any closer to that mayhem, there was more of a chance of him getting crushed than anything. So Spike just stayed put in the shrink-o-matic, waiting albeit impatiently.

As the hour passed to an end, a tingling sensation ran through his body.

"Spike!"

"Thank Primus, Spike, you had us worried."

"Yah doin' alright there fella?"

"Glad ta see you jivin' back with us, Spike."

Faces filled with relief to barely stifled amusement filled Spike's vision as he was lifted bodily from the ground by Optimus's large hand. Perceptor came into sight next, his optics dimmed in abashment. Spike signaled Prime to move over to the scientist and clambered on top of Perceptor's shoulder, giving the red light cannon on Perceptor's shoulder a reassuring pat.

"Don't worry about it Perceptor, that was way more interesting than homework anyways," chirped Spike from his perch.

Perceptor's head swung around to regard Spike sheepishly. Laughter bubbled out from the other mechs and Spike grinned. Slowly, Perceptor's embarrassed expression changed and he returned a smile back toward Spike's direction.


	2. Disheveled Perceptor

Title: Helping Hand  
Author: Darkfireblade aka Hellsfirescythe  
For: 28 Perceptors prompt "Disheveled Perceptor"  
Fandom: Transformers Generation 1  
Rating: PG  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor, Skyfire  
Summary: Autobot wash time at the Ark. But not everyone can seem to 'fit' into the schedual.  
Notes/Warnings: Also not slash per se. For tactilecontact

* * *

"Hey, watch the finish, you're gonna scratch if all off."

"There's going to be more than just finish being scraped off if you keep running your synthesizers."

Perceptor glanced wearily over as the whines of a certain yellow Lamborghini warrior were dressed down by a growling CMO.

"Everythin' alright there, Perceptor?"

The scientist glanced up in a daze and winced as a pair of headlight flashed into his optics. When realizing the identity of the speaker, he spared a worn-out smile towards Ironhide's direction. The grizzled war veteran gleamed merrily in his newly washed and polished alt-form on the med bay floor as First Aid painstakingly buffed away at the last few scratches on Ironhide's chassis.

At those words, the young medic glanced up; his optic band flashing for a brief moment in what Perceptor deduced was a cursory med-scan.

Gingerly, First Aid picked himself off the ground and dropped a clean towel into Perceptor's hands after patting the scientist gently over a shoulder strut. "I think you've been more than enough help right now, go clean yourself up and get some recharge," the Protectobot continued on before the other mech could protest. "Ratchet and I can easily handle the rest of the group. We went through them all a lot quicker than previously anticipated with your help. Besides, from the way it looked, Tracks was a very difficult mech to work on."

Difficult didn't even sum up half of the experience.

"Just push him out already."

Perceptor jumped at Ratchet's loud interjection and found himself being admonished and led calmly through the med bay doors where they closed with a final _snap_.

When Perceptor arrived in the officer lounge area, it was blissfully empty. With Ratchet and Wheeljack in charge of 'Operation: Autobot Prep', Prowl and Red Alert conducting security checks around the base, Jazz human-proofing the Ark, and Optimus Prime planning out the last details of the conference, everyone was being kept busy by the upcoming human-outreach event.

It really had been a spur-of-the-moment idea brought up by Sparkplug Witwicky. The mechanic had suggested that humans would like to know more about these giant alien robots they're sharing space and energy with. Prime being…well, Prime had embraced the idea whole-heartedly with the full support of most of the Ark. A few weeks later, diplomats and foreign ambassadors had been contacted and next thing everyone knew, an international conference had been scheduled in Portland, Oregon…with complimentary surface tours of the Ark. Now with just less than 12 hours until the big day, Optimus had decided that the Autobots had to make themselves 'presentable' to the general public. What that meant to some was an excuse for an extra wash and wax for the week. To some others (mainly the ones doing the actual washing and waxing) this just added to their work piles.

No one had even offered to return that favor and help out the helpful 'volunteers' for their services.

Weariness left Perceptor as he downed his allotment of energon. Systems that had previously fell into mild hibernation slowly started back up with a delighted thrum. After carefully placing the cup in a cleaning receptacle, Perceptor made his way towards the Ark's communal wash racks. After catching sight of more than one gleaming Autobot chassis this day, he was feeling the oil and grit that had worked their way into his derma-plating and servos more than ever.

The short walk to the wash racks was predictably uneventful. He passed briefly by Jazz, exchanging a few brief words with the saboteur, but other than the Earth-loving Porsche, Perceptor spotted no other Autobots traversing through the Ark corridors. So when Perceptor entered the wash racks, the sight of another Autobot was a pleasant change from the eerie emptiness.

The white jet's large presence filled most of the room (as the wash racks had clearly not been built with a mech the size of a jet in mind). Currently, the Valkyrie was sitting across the expanse of the tile floor, his back faced towards Perceptor. Disheartened mumbles echoed around the area.

"Is anything the matter, Skyfire?"

The muttering ceased and the Valkyrie turned to regard the newcomer, a rag much too small for his large fingers gripped tightly in his hold. Skyfire's frustrated expression faded into a sheepish smile and he waved Perceptor over.

"I couldn't quite fit in the Med Bay, with all the other Autobots there. So I opted to make an attempt at cleaning myself," Skyfire remarked dryly when he caught sight of Perceptor's questioning gaze. "I forgot how difficult it is to wash by myself."

"By yourself?" Perceptor inquired curiously.

"Well, back on Cybertron and during missions off-planet, I always had Starscream to…" Skyfire's explanation trailed off into an awkward silence, something that was prone to occurrence whenever the large jet happened to mention anything about his association with the Decepticon.

Perceptor stepped closer and brought a fist up to his mouth, hemming softly as if attempting to dislodge something politely from his vocalizer (some human peculiarity he had picked up from watching Sparkplug). Without warning he plucked the damp towel from Skyfire's lax fingers and glanced up with a questioning smile.

"I suppose that I could of assistance in this area."

Skyfire's dismayed expression changed into something more unreadable, but his optics brightened into a clear azure as he peered searchingly at Perceptor. There was a moment of studious silence between the two scientists before Skyfire's lip components twitched into a small smile. Slowly, the Valkyrie stretched out and nodded gratefully. Perceptor moved backwards quickly as Skyfire clambered up to shift into his large alt-mode.

Ratchet would have blown a gasket if he found out that he had kicked Perceptor out of the Med bay for rest, only to have the scientist take on the even bigger job of prepping Skyfire. But, no Autobot appeared in the wash racks so no word was going to get to the CMO. Perceptor stopped in his work to wipe away a few drops of coolant beading on his plating. Skyfire's systems continued their steady thrum (the powerful engines had jump-started when Perceptor passed the towel over the bundles of sensory nodes dotted all over the Valkyrie's sensitive nose. It was only when the cleaning approached the wings and tailfin that Perceptor had to deal with occasional flashing lights and wriggling ailerons/rudder).

But the cleaning and polishing was through. Perceptor paused to check his internal chronometer and blanched as he registered the time.

"Oh my," The red mech stumbled backwards in surprise and fatigue.

The content purr of Skyfire's engines died down and the jet transformed to regard Perceptor curiously. "Is there something wrong?"

Perceptor shook his cranial rapidly, trying to jolt some extra energy into his CPU. "I...I had no idea so much time had passed. I...I better try and get some labs finished before the day ends..."

"You never got to actually do what you came to the wash racks for."

"Pardon me?" Perceptor's memory banks blanked.

"You came down here to get yourself cleaned, am I correct?" asked Skyfire picking up Perceptor's long discarded towel. Perceptor blanched as the memory registered in his mind and as he glanced at the increased grime build-up streaked over his red and blue plating. He started when a large white hand seemed to engulf most of his shoulder. Skyfire's faceplate beamed, the large white mech now only a few meters away and towel in hand. "Let me help you complete your objective."

He was only too willing to comply.


	3. Book Reading Perceptor

Title: Noctis et Diei  
Author: Darkfireblade aka Hellsfirescythe  
For: 28 Perceptors prompt "Book-reading Perceptor"  
Fandom: TF: G1  
Rating: G  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor  
Summary: The Earth really is a strange place.  
Notes/Warnings: n/a

* * *

There wasn't any night on Cybertron. In fact, such a thing rarely ever occurred. The explanation for such an 'oddity', as most organics were quick to call it, was quite simple actually: there was no sun that Cybertron could orbit around, thus eliminating the thing organics termed 'night' and 'day'.

Perceptor paused in his scanning and re-booted his optics, letting them adjust from the quick change away from the data-pad. It was superfluous really, the existence of such planetary changes for mechanics. Even if such things had existed back on Cybertron, the possibility of it affecting the going-ons of the population would be marginal at best. But for organics, here on Earth, the very existence of a cycle of 23.934 Earth-hours of light and darkness seemed to rule the natives' lives. The effects could be seen down to every single last organism.

It was rather fascinating really.

What was even more fascinating was the fact that many of the Autobots had absorbed and adapted to this solar-centric culture.

After 10:00 pm, Earth units, Pacific time zone, 85 of the Ark's residents (with exception of those on patrol and guard duty) were either beginning to head towards their recharge berths or exhibiting much more placid behavior than shown during the times of light (though there were certain days that seemed exempt from this, such as Fridays and Saturdays, as well as the occasional rare night after a particularly easy victory against Decepticon forces).

Jazz's usually audio-deafening tunes were traded in for a collection of mellow melodies.

Optimus Prime retreated to his chambers to chuckle over a few Earth comics before settling down with a rather old and battered data-pad.

Red Alert's paranoia increased during these nighttime hours as his auto-mechanisms were put on hair-trigger alert for fear of an attack on headquarters in the dark. Inferno usually came back from his self-imposed rounds around the area's cities to accompany the Security Chief the moment the sun dipped into the Earth's horizon.

The normally scarce Mirage was even less likely to be seen or heard from during these hours. His usual haunt took him to the lip of the volcano where the white and blue mech would just sit for hours until the stars began to fade, or his power core sent notices of its needed recharge.

The list of changes as darkness overtook this part of the Earth just went on and on. Perceptor's lip components quirked as he shifted in his position. Even he wasn't immune to the effect of Earth's peculiarities.

Night turned to day, day turned to night.

One mech sat alone, pondering the givens of organic life.


	4. Naive Perceptor

Title: Ignorance isn't Bliss  
Author: Darkfireblade aka Hellsfirescythe  
For: 28 Perceptors "Naive Perceptor" prompt  
Fandom: TF: G1  
Rating: PG  
Characters/Pairings: Sparkplug, Perceptor  
Summary: Perceptor was appointed the Ark's human researcher upon first arrival. Lucky for him, he has first-hand sources nearby to ask questions to.  
Notes/Warnings: requested by darkstatic, no warnings to really be aware about.

* * *

"So Ratchet tells me that you can document to me how human life forms are created."

Perceptor cocked his head as Sparkplug's drink blew spectacularly out of the human's mouth and as the mechanic's dark eyes widened in his direction. Slowly, Sparkplug wiped the spattered liquid off his mouth with a shirt sleeve before answering. "Say what now, Perceptor?"

"I have been assigned as Earth researcher to further the understanding between Earth culture and our own. So I should first discover the life stages of you humans. Now I understand that organics normally do something called 'conceiving' young. How does that ha–"

"Why ask me? You 'bots have Teletraan-I, can't you get information off of him?" Sparkplug sputtered indignantly.

Sparkplug barely caught some unintelligible words out of the scientist's mouth.

"Um...can you repeat that? I couldn't quite understand." Sparkplug chuckled nervously.

Red shoulders lowered with the sound of shifting hydraulics and air whooshed out of Perceptor's filters as if emulating a sigh. Embarrassedly, Perceptor crossed his arms. "The rest of the Autobots are engaging in the activity of watching some of your local television. _As the Kitchen Sinks_ they tell me." he muttered. "They're all completely fascinated and refuse to budge until it's over."

Leave it to a bunch of giant robots from outer space to find appreciation for B-grade afternoon soaps.

"So Teletraan's taken and you think I can answer your question satisfactorily."

"It would be more than satisfactory to hear about human reproduction from a first hand source, after all you do have Spike."

"Now don't forget that it takes two to get a kid, Perceptor."

The scientist paused in his rambling to look over Sparkplug's flushing form and the mechanic blanched as a light smile spread over Perceptor's faceplate. "Oh yes, how forgetful of me. You humans require to be in pairs to reproduce. How riveting."

Sparkplug cursed his slip of tongue, now it seemed that Perceptor would not be leaving any time soon without some sort of explanation. Well, it was better now than never. At least he would have some experience in giving some sort of Talk before approaching Spike.

Stumbling more than once in his rough narrative and interrupted many times by Perceptor's inquiries, Sparkplug made it through his first Talk without too much incident.

"Thank you very much, Mister Witwicky for your help. It's greatly appreciated."

"Yeah, whatever Perceptor, any time," Sparkplug muttered half-heartedly. Pleased by his performance and by the fact that maybe now Perceptor would be satisfied and leave to conduct his own research, Sparkplug sunk back into his chair and reached for his drink. But it seemed that the higher beings had different plans.

"Actually, Mister Witwicky, if you don't mind. I was actually hoping that you might provide me with a demonstration of this explanation."

_Clatter crash_

"Out, Perceptor!"


	5. Naughty Perceptor

Title: Well Returns  
Author: Darkfireblade  
For: 28 Perceptors "Naughty Perceptor" prompt  
Fandom: TF: G1  
Rating: G  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor, Wheeljack  
Summary: Beware the quiet, smart ones.  
Notes/Warnings: requested by lj userravynfyre :D. Takes place right after Season One.

* * *

Hazing. One would think that it only occurred in human frat houses. But it seemed that instances of it pop up throughout many different cultures, species even. One such occurrence took place not too long ago with the arrival of reinforcements from Cybertron to the Ark. Wheeljack could only say that finding his old colleague decked out in rude Earth sayings and silly string during Perceptor's odd slips into recharge (the culprits likely to be the minibots. Especially after Wheeljack discovered the rather crude phrase having to do with a professor and a muffler scrawled onto Perceptor's scope).

Perceptor's reaction to the whole ordeal was suspiciously calm.

A few days later, Wheeljack entered his labs to find Perceptor tinkering absentmindedly with some defunct circuits.

To say that the expression on Perceptor's face wasn't perfectly smug would be missing an observation. It wasn't often that such a look surfaced onto the red scientist's features. But when it did, even Wheeljack knew to feel slightly apprehensive...and the Autobot engineer was feeling i very /i apprehensive.

"Uh, what are you up to, Perceptor?"

Like quicksilver, the grin on said Autobot's face smoothed away into an innocently inquisitive smile as he turned away from his work. The fact that the Perceptor was so easily distracted from the lab was enough to ring klaxons in Wheejack's warning systems, but he pressed on, hand lighting carefully on the other mech's shoulder.

Perceptor responded with a disarming tilt to his head, but his optics were all but glimmering in bright anticipation. "There's no need to extrapolate with such a concerned expression, Wheeljack," the scientist returned to his tinkering–rather, his fidgeting. "There's nothing going on here at all."

As if right on cue, grumbles and noises of outrage echoed in through open doors. Wheeljack peered out and stumbled back into the lab, wheezing noises that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter exiting his vocalizer, his head-lights flashing a cheery, spastic, blue. What marched past the doorway was something quite out of the ordinary: Trailbreaker and Inferno hefted a long bench–part of the minibots' favorite rec room table–between them. Stuck on it like human dashboard ornaments were Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Windcharger, and a very irritated Brawn. The group of them had at least a bit of sense to look slightly shame-faced as they caught sight of Perceptor curiously watching them bob by on their make-shift litter.

"Ah...I take it you found some use for that viscous polymer solution you stumbled upon then?" coughed Wheeljack lightly when the strange procession was out of sight as it headed around the corner for the med-bay.

"I have no idea of what your question pertains to," Perceptor replied evenly as he mopped up a tiny spill of solution from a lab counter. Wheeljack only eyed said spill and the scientist before turning away, fins still flashing in silent laughter. Loud growls and bangs could now be heard through the thick wall that separated the med-bay and laboratories. Wheeljack pretended not to notice the pleased expression that alighted on Perceptor's face.

The fact that he'd deal with Ratchet's quick ire later seemed to have completely slipped the other's mind.


	6. Well Shagged Perceptor

Title: Voyeurism  
Author: Darkfireblade aka Hellsfirescythe  
For: 28 Perceptors prompt "Well-Shagged Perceptor"  
Fandom: Transformers Generation 1  
Rating: Mature if you're squicky about 'robo-porn'  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor  
Summary: The Ark really isn't as private as its inhabitants wish it to be.  
Notes/Warnings: Um...like I mentioned, there is sorta mech!erotica. Sorta because...well I can't say because that would just give things away wouldn't it? But yeah, don't like robots+'whatever they do'? Don't read. Not slash per se...agh whatever.

* * *

_//...the red mech gasped as nimble fingers slipped between metal seams and around sparking wires. This was definitely not what Perceptor had in mind when he had entered his labs in the morning. Though, the scientist wasn't protesting as the laboratory counter bumped roughly against his back._

_A low charge hummed through his erratically shifting energy field, sending pleasant tingling sensations running all through his chassis. Perceptor's hand flew out, knocking a few empty test tubes off of the testing surface, as he struggled for purchase as the world suddenly tilted. A servos in his knees had temporarily shorted out, sending the bot and his partner sprawling onto the lab floor along with the shattered glass._

_His systems were already feeling the effects of his actions. Hot air flew out of his ventilation slats as drops of coolant had already started to slide off his chassis, dripping off of his tail pipe...//_

_\\Ahem, I would like to have you know that I do NOT possess a tail pipe.\\_

_//...Uh...Perceptor?//_

_//Oh slag! He had access to this channel?!//_

_//Blaster! You said this was secure!//_

_\\It is a secure channel, but you all just happened to disregard the fact that this is a secure channel for all Autobots. Secure against Decepticon spies.\\_

_//Hey, don't look at me, guys. I'm the one doing the blastin', it's you all that should be doing the askin'.//_

_//...ehhh...how much did you hear, Perceptor?//_

_\\Enough to note the inaccuracies within the narrative. Now Blaster, I perceive that you and your listeners enjoy your weekly prose, but I wish for you to leave my self out of your...narratives.\\_

_//Why would we do that?//_

_\\Because, Windcharger, if you don't, I'm sure Ratchet would be more than happy to hear about the stories you've made including his charact-\\_

_//Alright! Alright! Blaster here will keep things cool for you, Perce.//_

_\\Thank you. I'm signing out.\\_

_//Is he gone?//_

_//I think so.//_

_//Can you just go on with the story now?//_

_//Yeah, as soon as I reinforce the security in this channel.//_

_//Done yet?//_

_//Cool it, Powerglide.//_

_//Hush now y'all! Finished, now let me get on with it the thread.//_

_//Don't forget about the tail pipe!//_

_//SHUT UP//_

Back aboard the _Nemisis_, Soundwave stumbled as he spilled out of his alt-mode. His cassettes exclaimed in surprise within their creator as the Decepticon Communications Officer slumped into the large chair in front of the ship computer system. With a mild shake of his head and a mental command for silence, Soundwave waited for the heated air to exit his systems and heightened coolant flow before hacking cautiously back into the Autobot channel.


	7. Greedy Perceptor

Title: Research  
Author: Darkfireblade  
For: 28 Perceptors "Greedy Perceptor" prompt  
Fandom: TF: G1  
Rating: G  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor  
Summary: It's 1985 and Perceptor has just been assigned as the Autobot's human specialist. With the Internet still in its baby stages, how does one get information?  
Notes/Warnings: Oh goodness, I never thought that standardized testing would ever hand me a story idea. But it did. Prompt requested by ravynfyre . Takes place right after Season One.

* * *

"I don't think– " 

"Hey what's the big deal?!"

"Madame, I'm looking for the reference section."

"Daddy, what's the big robot doing?"

"–my term paper!"

"Why's this line taking so long?"

"I can't find the reference section!"

"–half missing."

"How can he see over all that?"

The hubbub of voices died down slowly as staff and security guards carefully split the crowd.

Behind the check-out counter, the librarian glanced up in shock as a mountain of books floated towards her. Its carrier was nearly unrecognizable if it wasn't for what looked like a large red telescope poking over it all.

"I do hope I'm not making any trouble," said a slightly disembodied voice.

"Sir...these books can't be checked out."

A black helm peered over the thick tomes, the metallic face somehow conveying a look of confusion. "Why not? This is a library isn't it? The function of which is to loan out books." The tone of the Autobot isn't condescending, but more like someone who isn't quite sure if they're stating the obvious.

"Yes, yes this is, sir. But those books can not be checked out. They're for use in the library only, so others have easy access to them as well."

The look of confusion melted into something that resembled startled disappointment. It's honestly shocking, the ability these robots have to mimic real emotions.

"I suppose I'll return these items to where I found them..." With those woeful words said, the Autobot stepped away, lifting the pile as if it was nothing at all– no, correction: he lifted the pile like some sort of lost treasure– and returned back into the depths of the building.

Thus, the library regained all of their reference section. That's in addition to gaining a regular presence of a soon-to-be-famous scientist in the building. But that's another story for another time.


	8. Jealous Perceptor

Title: Missed Out  
Author: Darkfireblade aka Hellsfirescythe  
For: 28 Perceptors 'Jealous'  
Fandom: Transformers G1  
Rating: G  
Characters/Pairings: Perceptor, Spike, Bumblebee  
Summary: Being a technologically advanced, trasforming robot from a mechanical planet has its perks. But Perceptor finds himself a bit lacking.  
Notes/Warnings: N/A

* * *

Unlike Cybertronians, humans and most other organics were covered in tactile sensory organs. Their sense of touch was amazingly sharp, something both useful and detrimental. 

One such example of human's tactile performance came just a few days ago as the Autobot warriors were returning to the Ark.

"You guys sure beat some Decepticon keister today!" chuckled Spike. His ever constant companion and at the moment, driver, Bumblebee made a sound in agreement. Perceptor sat quietly in the passenger seat, swiveling his lens barrel to regard the human.

"Feel that spring air, Bee. Man, you all sure picked a perfect day for a victory. What do you say to a nice lounge in the sun after we get back home?"

"Euh...sure thing, Spike." replied Bumblebee, confusion evident in the minibot's voice.

"Hey, what's with the hesitation? You got some other things to do when we get back?"

"No, no. I was just wondering. Your planet's sun is great and all, but...what's so special about laying around outside? We can do the same thing inside the Ark."

Spike shifted in the driver's seat, a curious frown appearing on his visage. "What do you mean? Don't you ever get this warm refreshing feeling outside? The sun casting warm rays on your skin and the wind coasting over your body?"

Bumblebee chuckled nervously. "Well...it warms up my plating."

Later that day, in the repair bay, Perceptor remembered watching curiously as Sparkplug was performing repairs on a stalled Ironhide. The mechanic was nearly half-way within the security officer's chassis when a sharp explicative pierced through the air. Sparkplug tumbled out, nursing his hand tenderly.

Ironhide's concerned drawl echoed through the repair bay and Sparkplug wearily waved it away before crawling back into the old warrior.

Thinking back on this now, Perceptor couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. What different possibilities would be open for him to discover if he had such sensitive somatic abilities? If sight had given him so much information, how much more would touch? Lightly he ran his fingers over the walls of the Ark. It was...hard and smooth. He could feel a bit of a cool sensation if he thought about it.

Spike had once commented how the cold smoothness of the Ark's interior sent shivers running up and down his spine.

Perceptor wasn't quite sure of what the human meant. He sure wished that he could find out.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for your reviews. I don't have time to answer them right now, but I promise I will next chapter. Any requests or prompts? Just send them my way. Thank you all again! 


End file.
